The Werewolf, the Assassin, and the Teenager
by pinkskyline
Summary: Derek finds the Desert Wolf, only she's a CIA assassin and she's mad as hell that her cover is blown and now she wants to kill him. Stiles meets up with Derek to bring him money and supplies, and more importantly, plans and schemes. But are a werewolf and a teenager really a match for a CIA assassin? Eventual Sterek.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles was sitting alone in his room, wondering how everything went wrong. He'd wanted to help Malia, to spend his life with her and love her forever, but when things had gotten bad she'd morphed into a coyote and run off. If she'd wanted Scott to force her to shift back to a human, she'd have stuck around, right?

Anyway, Scott couldn't find her.

There was nothing that said 'we're through' quite like running off with another species.

Scott was busy with his new pack—Liam, and some other stragglers from the Buddhist pack. Scott seemed to trust everyone but Stiles these days, or maybe he was just too busy trying to be a high school senior, athlete and an alpha to a bunch of betas to have time for his old friends. Either way, Stiles wasn't really happy with him. Not only was Scott not really around for Stiles anymore, he didn't seem to need Stiles' advice anymore.

More importantly, Scott hadn't looked too hard for Malia, in Stiles' opinion. But then Malia had told both Stiles and Scott she wanted to go back to the woods dozens of times.

So she was back in the wild, and Scott had his pack, and Lydia was…losing it. Stiles tried to be there for her, he really did. But he could only hear her describe the myriad of ways she foresaw his and the rest of the pack's deaths before he took a couple of steps back.

He didn't want to end up back in Eichen House. Chances were slim that another orderly would try to kill him, and otherwise he could _not_ afford the bills. He and his dad were just getting a handle on their finances, and he didn't want to do anything to make them backslide again.

Stiles found himself idly wondering where Derek was. He'd sent Derek a couple of texts, and Derek had replied, but then Derek had said he was going to be out of touch for a while. He hadn't replied to any of Stiles' texts since.

Stiles thought this was unlike Derek, and he'd been somewhat worried that he was dead in a ditch somewhere for a while. He knew Derek could take care of himself, so it was more of a low-grade, backburner worry, but he had a minute right now, so he scrolled through his texts, finding the last exchange between them.

 **Derek** -I'm not going to be in touch for a while.

 **Stiles** -What's happening?

 **Derek** -I don't think it's anything major. Probably nothing as bad as the stuff that happens every day in BHs.

 **Stiles** -So come home and save us already!

 **Derek** -Is everything okay?

 **Stiles** -Yeah, just tense so far. We're not really sure what's going on, and it usually ends up being so much worse than you imagine it will be.

 **Derek** -I would stay in touch but I think someone's tracking my phone or yours gotta ditch it.

 **Stiles** -You sound like you're in trouble. Isn't Braeden still around?

 **Derek** -She's the one telling me to ditch the phone. I'm okay. Take care of yourself.

 **Stiles** -You too, buddy.

 **Derek** -Buddy? Since when?

 **Stiles** -Seriously! After all this time?

 **Derek** -WOW, JK, LATIR

 **Stiles** -Later. Get in touch when you can.

 **Derek** -Will do.

For the first time, Stiles noticed how weird it was that Derek had spelled a word, 'later' wrong, used all capital letters, and used text abbreviations. Usually he didn't do any of those things in texts. He was one of those people who wrote texts very carefully and apparently even spell-checked. Stiles had made note of that fact and always texted pretty much in full sentences when he was texting Derek. Stiles noticed right away, now that he was really looking at it, that the phrase had ten letters.

"Like a telephone number," he muttered. He looked at the keypad of his phone and figured out the number that would correspond to each letter. WOW was 909, which was a California area code, JKL were all 5, making the next part 555. ATIR was 2847. Had Derek really sent him a new telephone number in a code that simple and it had taken him a month to figure it out? "Sorry, buddy, I suck," he said.

He went to put the number into his phone, and then thought for a moment. If whoever was after Derek really was tapping Stiles' phone, it would be very bad (not to mention embarrassing) to be the reason Derek was found out by bad people. He put the phone down and grabbed his keys, then went and bought a burner phone from the nearest convenience store for about twenty bucks including minutes.

He put in what he hoped was Derek's number and then texted him.

 **Stiles** -Hey, is this Sourwolf's number?

 **Derek** -Please tell me you're not texting from your phone.

 **Stiles** -It's a burner. Of course.

 **Derek** -Thanks. So you figured out my message.

 **Stiles** -Yeah. Not for a while, though, sorry. You okay?

 **Derek** -Actually, no. Not really. You okay?

 **Stiles** -No. Better than this time last year. I'm not possessed or anything. But there's crazy stuff happening here and Scott won't let me help. He's trusting literally everyone but me. It drives me crazy. He just gets it in his head he has to do everything himself—wait, I guess you know more about that than anyone.

 **Derek** -Pretty much, yeah. I wish you were here. I could sure use your help.

 **Stiles** -Anything I can do from here?

 **Derek** -I can't think of anything, but if I do, I'll tell you.

 **Stiles** -Did you find the Desert Wolf?

 **Derek** -Sort of. Is Malia with you right now?

 **Stiles** -Malia is a coyote fulltime now. I don't think she wants to come back. Human and supernatural problems just got to be too much, I guess, and I wasn't enough to convince her to stay. I miss her.

 **Derek** -I'm sorry. I'm sure you did your best to help her.

 **Stiles** -You still with Braeden?

 **Derek** -We had to split up to hide. We sort of…found the Desert Wolf, and she started hunting us. She said we blew her cover and she's PISSED.

 **Stiles** -You're being hunted? Let me come get you.

 **Derek** -And bring me where? I can't go home.

 **Stiles** -Do you have food? Money? I'll bring you whatever you need.

 **Derek** -Someone could be watching you.

 **Stiles** -You really think so?

 **Derek** -Probably not. But if they were, could you evade someone following you? I could get you cash. Probably the easiest way would be to buy bus tickets for long trips and get off randomly in the middle of the trip, then buy another ticket for a different destination. No one following you would be able to trace where you were going that way. When we meet up we can buy a used car and go wherever. But where would we go?

 **Stiles** -We can figure it out together. I've put you through so much shit, Derek. I owe you a save.

 **Derek** -You don't owe me anything, Stiles. We're even. But if you want to help…

 **Stiles** -I do. I just have to make sure Scott will take care of my dad.

 **Derek** -He going to really let you take off during your senior year?

 **Stiles** -I'm not going to college anyway.

 **Derek** -But you're the smartest person I know.

 **Stiles** -Smart isn't everything. So what do I need to do?

Derek gave Stiles directions on where to find the safe in his apartment, gave him the combination, and told him to take the bus north east. He got some clothes for Derek, just in case, and what looked like a few hundred thousand dollars from the safe. He found a duffle bag with an inner-lining and cut a hole in it, lining the bottom with cash and then sealing up the hole with crazy-glue. He filled the duffle with his and Derek's clothes, bought another burner phone, put Derek's and his dad and Scott's number in it, and put it in the duffle for emergencies. He put the burner phone that only had Derek's number in it in his pocket.

He recorded a video message for his dad on his phone that said, "Hey, dad. I know this is the worst thing I've ever done to you…but Derek needs my help. He's in some kind of trouble, and I'm the only one who can help. I'll get in touch if I can. I promise you I'm not being kidnapped or possessed or anything, and I'll come back as soon as I handle this. I'm really sorry, dad. I know this is a shitty thing to do. Take care of yourself and eat right." He played it back a couple of times, and then recorded another telling Scott to take care of his father. He turned his phone off and left it on the desk in his room with his wallet and all his ID.

Stiles bought a ticket for LA and only went two stops before getting off the bus and buying another ticket for Sacramento. In Bakersfield he got off the bus and bought a ticket for Salt Lake City and got off in Vegas. He was burning through Derek's money pretty fast without getting very far, but on the other hand, bus tickets were cheap and there was plenty more money in the bag.

In Vegas he texted Derek his position and was told to head to Flagstaff, so he bought a ticket to Phoenix and then another at a little town near the Arizona border for Albuquerque. Eventually he made his way to the highway outside of Durango, and realized Derek had been hiding in San Juan National Forest.

 _Are you a wolf right now?_ Stiles texted.

 _Not right at this minute. Hard to text with paws. But I've been a wolf for a few weeks._ Derek replied.

When he arrived at the national forest, Derek directed him to a ranger's cabin and he walked where he'd been directed to. He was starting to get cold and hungry when he saw a black wolf loping towards him.

"Derek?" he asked.

Derek transitioned into human, shaking off his wolf form and moving in to hug Stiles—who was not prepared for such an unprecedented thing. He and Derek had never hugged before, and Derek was completely naked. But it was so good to see Derek that he shrugged off the strangeness and hugged him back. "I can't believe you did this," Derek said, pulling back and letting go.

"Is it really that unbelievable that someone would do something nice for you?" Stiles asked.

Derek looked at him oddly. "Yeah, kind of. People usually kick me and kidnap me and try to put me under spells or rob me or try to kill me."

Stiles shook his head. Derek wasn't wrong. He must have done some questionable things in his passed life to deserve all the terrible things this life had put him through. Stiles pointed to the duffle bag. "I put some clothes in there for you. I had no idea you would have zero clothes or I would have packed more. I think I put some flip-flops in there, though."

"I have some clothes squirreled away. Just not nearby." He moved to get some clothes and put them on.

"You need to pick them up?" Stiles asked.

"It's probably not worth it. They're in Colorado Springs. We can just buy some things at the next Walmart we see. I would kill for a shower and a hamburger right now."

"What have you been eating? Mice?"

Derek made a face. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I would love to buy some shitty junker of a car, because I am really sick of the bus. But I haven't been eating mice, so…you win that one, I guess," Stiles said.

Derek ran a hand through his hair. "So, what do we do now? I mean, I've thought about it, and it doesn't make any sense for you to come with me. I'll take the money and start again somewhere else."

"That's a shitty idea," Stiles said. "Beacon Hills is your home. You can't just change your name and live somewhere else. What about the pack?"

"Scott and I have gotten along a lot better these last few years. But he certainly doesn't need me."

"But you're a millionaire! You're just going to live in some little town and work as a Walmart greeter or something? That's stupid!"

Derek glared, probably at the implication that being a Walmart greeter was the only job he would be qualified for. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"We should find out who is after this Desert Wolf woman, and stop them. Find out what they have on her, and handle them. That way she won't want to kill you and Braeden for finding her anymore," Stiles said.

Derek sighed. "If it was that easy, don't you think she would have done it on her own? You think a high school kid and a werewolf are so much more effective than whatever she is?"

"Well, is she supernatural like you? I mean, is Malia a coyote because that's like a cross between a human and a werewolf, or is it something different?"

"No, I think she's human. If werewolves and humans have children, some are coyotes and some are full humans. Some are actually full wolves. It might depend on genes. You know, the way some people can't handle the bite. Well, some genes can't take on the wolf-powers the same way."

"So what did Braeden know about her?"

"Are we really doing this? Because a nice house in a sleepy little town sounds pretty good right now."

"Let's head out to the highway. There's a motel with a diner about a mile down that way. We'll get you a burger and a shower and a nice sleep in a bed, and we'll see if you're more optimistic in the morning," Stiles said.

Derek looked at him doubtfully, but started walking. "Thanks for bringing me shoes."

"Anything for you, buddy," he said, clapping Derek on the shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek and Stiles got a room and dropped their things off, and then went to the diner, which was surprisingly full. They were told their burgers would take about half an hour, so Stiles suggested Derek go take a shower while Stiles waited, and he would bring their dinner to the room when it was ready.

He was unloading the food from the big paper bag onto the little table when Derek left the bathroom, smelling a whole lot fresher and dressed in blue boxers and a white tank top. "That smells amazing," Derek said.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sourwolf?"

"Less teasing, more cooked meat," Derek growled.

"…And he's back," Stiles said. He was hungry, too, so he opened the wrapping around his burger and took a few bites. "I got us three burgers. I thought you could probably handle two. And fries. And pie."

Derek made an inarticulate sound of pleasure as he ate. He paused. "What's the drink?"

"Milkshake. I never have them because I never let my dad have them, but I thought we deserved some liquid ice-cream," Stiles said.

Derek took a drink from his milkshake and groaned in appreciation, then resumed eating. Stiles looked at him thoughtfully. "So, what's the story on the Desert Wolf? I've never seen you run away from a threat, Derek. What's so scary about some human woman?"

"Kate was a human woman once."

"She's not like Kate, is she?"

"I don't think so. Kate wanted to kill werewolves for what we are. Desert Wolf just wants to kill Braeden and me so that we can't ever reveal how we found her."

"How did you find her?"

"It was a combination of things that Peter told me about her and things that Braeden had found out over the years. And I used my werewolf senses," Derek said.

"So why was she in trouble in the first place? Why was Braeden looking for her?"

"Braeden used to be a U.S. Marshal. Desert Wolf was the code name of a CIA asset who was being held in a prison in High Desert State Prison in Nevada. She escaped, and Braeden was one of the people assigned to look for her."

"Was this before or after she gave birth to Malia?"

"Apparently Malia was born in the prison. That's why she was adopted out. For whatever reason, Desert Wolf never revealed that Peter was Malia's father."

"Kind of a coincidence that she would be given to a family in Beacon Hills, isn't it?"

"I think Peter may have manipulated the adoption somehow so he could keep an eye on her. He was married at the time to someone else, so he probably didn't want to reveal the affair—but back then he wouldn't have been as heartless about his own daughter as he seems to be now."

"So…CIA asset? What's that, like a spy? Or an informant?"

"Braeden thinks she was an assassin. Makes a lot of sense, given her skill-set."

"Jesus. Okay. So you think the CIA was forcing her to assassinate people or something? Maybe take the fall for something she was ordered to do, and the only way to get free of them was just to disappear?"

Derek sighed. "We think…we think that she was charged with finding and assassinating the leaders of the most powerful supernatural families in America."

"Wait, the CIA knows about werewolves?"

"We think. Our theory is that she came to kill my mom, but fell for Peter in the process of trying to get close to her. Her handlers realized she was going soft and put her in prison," Derek said.

"So why isn't the CIA after you and Scott?"

"We're nowhere near as powerful now as the Hales were at full strength. We were awesomely powerful, rich, well-known…which was as bad as it was good. There were always challengers. Always people who were jealous and who wanted what we had. Kate wouldn't have bothered with something as spectacular as that fire with a little pack. She wanted to send supernatural families a message," Derek said.

"So if the Desert Wolf hadn't fallen for Peter, she might have killed your mom, which would have made you less powerful, and then Kate might not have noticed you as much, and might not have burned your house down," Stiles said.

"While it's tempting to blame everything on Peter, in this case I don't think it's justified."

"Let's do it anyway," Stiles said.

"So…we have to find out what the CIA has on this woman to make her kill for them," Derek said. "Any clue how we could possibly do that?"

"Well, I guess we'd have to know who her handler is. I imagine the big thing you'd blackmail a professional killer with is just people they've killed in the past. I mean that's how I'd do it. Convince them to kill one person, and then record it somehow, and blackmail them using that until you don't need them anymore," Stiles said.

"You are pretty ruthless, aren't you?"

"We both are, Derek. But then we're only ruthless when we need to be. And we're only ruthless to get things done."

"Okay. Well, I know Braeden's contact at the CIA. I assume he's the handler."

"Tell me everything you know about him," Stiles said.

"His name is Davis Peterson. He works out of Las Vegas. He works alone."

"That's it?"

"It's not like I have a dossier on everyone I meet," Derek said.

"You say that like it's a preposterous idea. Think about how useful a dossier on this Peterson guy would be to us right now," Stiles asked.

"Do you have files on everyone you know? Is that what you're saying?"

Stiles declined to answer. "So we have to go to Vegas and see if we can find him."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. We ask him what he wants with the Desert Wolf. Maybe try to find out what he wants with werewolves," Stiles said.

"How's that going to help us?"

"I don't know! But sitting here isn't going to help us, is it? Maybe you can do that thing where you threaten to rip his throat out with your teeth," Stiles said.

"This isn't your problem, Stiles," Derek said.

"I'm making it my problem. Actually, considering the shit we've dealt with the last few years, the CIA sounds like some good, clean, wholesome fun. I think we can handle this."

"It's funny. Maybe it's because I was born a werewolf, but I find human problems like this a lot harder to figure out than supernatural ones."

"Is that why you ran?"

"I thought Braeden knew best in this situation," Derek said. "That was partially because I don't know a lot about the CIA and assassins, I guess."

"Why do you trust her?"

Derek gave Stiles a look. "I'm not sure that I do."

"Do you have a way to get in touch with her?"

"No, she has the number of the burner phone but she hasn't called me on it," Derek said.

"Did you disable the GPS on it?"

"I didn't know you could."

"The internet is a tool, Derek, but only if you use it. That's part of the reason drug dealers love them. Hand it over," he said.

Derek did, and Stiles scrolled through and found the GPS and disabled it.

"Now wherever we go, Braeden can't find us. Or maybe we should ditch the phone. I don't know," Stiles said. "I think as long as it's turned off, no one can trace it. But it's just a burner, so maybe we should get rid of it…and the one I called you on it from."

"Why don't we trust Braeden?"

"I don't know. Based on your past experience with girlfriends, she's probably a serial killer," Stiles said.

Derek rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Stiles looked at the phone. "I'm the only one who called you? How many people did you text that number to?"

Derek shrugged, and Stiles let it go. Stiles imagined that Derek had texted Scott, but the chances of Scott ever figuring something like that out were about a zillion to one.

"So we go to Vegas, and then what?"

"We confront this guy in his home. But first we have to find out where he lives."

"How do we do that?"

"Internet," Stiles said.

"You don't think a CIA agent would be unlisted?"

" _He_ would be. But if he's married or has kids, there'll be traces. Facebook, reverse directories…People's personal information is surprisingly easy to find. And it's not like he's undercover. I don't claim I'd be able to find a CIA agent living abroad undercover. But this guy is probably some kind of glorified civil servant," Stiles said.

"You say that like you know it to be true but you don't know anything about this guy," Derek said.

"I never know anything about anything," Stiles said. "Hasn't stopped me from being the guy with all the answers most of the time."

"So you think we should just…wing it?"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"We get murdered by the CIA, put in jail for stalking…get arrested…Maybe I get put in a shady government laboratory where they do experiments on supernatural creatures…"

"There's that optimism you're famous for," Stiles said. He sighed. "Look, I understand if you don't want my help. I mean, you wanted me to bring you some money, and I brought it. It's your life. You can just say forget about it if you want."

"No. You're right. I don't run and hide. To be honest, I think part of me just wanted a break from all the conflict, you know?"

"You know, you don't have to have a CIA assassin trying to kill you to go on vacation."

Derek smiled wryly. "So, wow me with you internet skills. You can really find this guy?"

Stiles got out his iPad and went to work. They found out Davis Peterson was married to Jessica Peterson on Facebook, and then found out she owned a business called Peterson Yoga that operated out of her home.

"That was crazy-easy. If this guy is so easy to find, why doesn't the Desert Wolf just go there and kill him?"

"That's not how blackmail works, Derek. You know he probably told her if anything happens to him whatever he has on her goes to the authorities. Anyway, we're not going there to kill this guy. We just want to talk to him."

"But I'm supposed to threaten him?"

"Maybe. If we need to. I'm so full! That was like the biggest burger I've ever seen."

"Have you checked your email lately?"

"I'm scared to. I know people can track your email through the IP it's sent from and I'm worried that checking email might leave me open to the same thing considering law enforcement might be looking for me. And besides, all I'd get would be a bunch of pissed off emails from people who're mad at me for leaving."

"No wonder. Essentially you're a runaway right now," Derek said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "They know I'm coming back. So what would you have done if I hadn't come here? What was your plan?"

"I had one plan. It wasn't a good one," Derek said.

"Let me have it," Stiles said.

"I was waffling between calling Davis Peterson and telling him what we knew about the Desert Wolf so he could put her away, and going to an alpha I know and asking for advice," Derek said.

"You know another alpha? Where? Who is it?"

"He was my father's alpha when my father was young. He's an old man now, but no one will challenge him because he's really respected. I didn't want to go to him because I didn't want to bring him any trouble."

"So, which plan do you like best?"

"I'd say yours, but yours isn't really a plan," Derek said.

"Well…is there some reason we shouldn't turn this woman in? I mean, as tempting as it is to believe in conspiracy theories, maybe she's just an evil bitch. The fact that she seems willing to kill you to save herself isn't a great argument in her favor," Stiles said.

"It's Malia's mom," Derek said.

"There is that," Stiles said. "I guess we have to know more of the story. I think we should approach this Peterson guy as if he's a good guy. I mean, he could have sent an assassin after the Desert Wolf, but he sent a Marshal. That's got to speak to his intentions, right?"

Derek shrugged, and yawned. "I guess so. Listen, my bed is calling me. Maybe we after a good night's sleep the answer will come to us?"

"Sure," Stiles said. "I'll go to sleep in a little while. Will it bother you if I keep the light on?"

"No, not at all," Derek said.

"Good," Stiles said.

He had a file to start on agent Davis Peterson.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek looked out the window, wondering why he'd let Stiles convince him to get on the bus to go to Albuquerque. They could have bought a used car in Durango, but Stiles had had some long-winded argument in favor of going to Albuquerque, and Derek hadn't argued. Or really listened that closely.

He still couldn't quite get over the fact that Stiles had come to help him. He wasn't even sure why the kid had been texting him while he was away in the first place. He'd thought it was because Malia had wanted to be kept in the loop about her mother, but apparently not. Malia had gone to ground again, and once again the only Hale Derek had to go to for help was his crazy uncle, and he'd finally been put away where he (hopefully) couldn't hurt anyone.

It was no secret that Derek and Stiles didn't exactly get along, but he couldn't deny that Stiles was actually a pretty great person. Even when he'd hated Derek he'd still been there to help him and save him and even comfort him. He didn't feel like a brother, not like Scott did, but that was probably because he was a human not a wolf.

Yeah, Stiles was weird, but he was important to Derek. Even though Stiles was younger than he was, Derek had learned things from him over the years. He was wise, somehow, behind the wisecracks and the insecurity. He'd dealt with tragedy, but it hadn't made him bitter. It had made him completely dedicated to the health, safety and happiness of the people he loved—more so that anyone else Derek had ever met.

He hadn't realized that he was one of those people that Stiles was dedicated to; he hadn't realized that if he needed help Stiles would leave home without a word and do his best, maybe even at the risk of his life, to help him. And considering that Stiles' best generally was a really big part of saving the day, his best was pretty darn good.

It was more reassuring than he had imagined it would be. Not that he'd imagined being special to Stiles. Not that he _was_ special to Stiles. Just…it was nice to have someone he knew wouldn't betray him. And no one could ever doubt that Stiles was loyal. He hadn't batted an eye when his best friend had become a monster and tried to kill him. He'd even stuck up for Scott to everyone from Derek to Gerard Argent.

And he would do literally anything on earth to protect his dad.

He'd always kind of felt this pull of pain and envy in his chest when he saw the way Stiles hugged his father. Derek hadn't been close with his father—he'd been kind of a spoiled brat before the fire and hadn't really given the man a chance. He wished he'd had the chance to have the kind of relationship with _anyone_ that Stiles had with his father—or even the kind of relationship Stiles had with Scott.

So maybe that was why he'd let Stiles convince him to take a bus to Albuquerque. Because he felt kind of lucky to be with Stiles at all.

And the funniest part was the he was pretty sure that Stiles felt the same way, only he looked at Derek like he was one of the cool kids was noticing him for the first time, or the way Cora had looked at him when she was still a little girl and he'd deigned to play with her. It made Derek feel kind of bad. In their shared history he'd said more mean things about Stiles than was strictly necessary…but Stiles was undeniably annoying, and he'd done some pretty rude things to Derek over the years.

And he had no filter whatsoever. Whatever he was thinking just came right out of his mouth.

Which made him a nice change from Peter, who never said anything that wasn't calculated.

Derek found it disconcerting that he was suddenly finding it difficult to find Stiles all that annoying anymore. Stiles had recently grown up, filled out and gotten over his jittery energy and seemed almost unnaturally still sometimes. Not Nogitsune still, but not so energetic you were constantly trying not to instinctively duck flailing hands, either. Not for the first time Derek wondered how the Nogitsune had changed Stiles—the scars it had left that Stiles didn't let anyone see.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Stiles looked at him oddly, and Derek smiled what probably looked like a pretty awkward smile. "I mean, Malia, the Nogitsune…berserkers…it's been rough. How are you doing?"

"Well, I stopped thinking that therapy was an option when the only councilor I knew who was clued into the supernatural literally told me to kill myself and gave me the drugs to do it, so it's possible I've been keeping things bottled up inside," Stiles said.

He wouldn't want to worry his father with is problems. This was about as obvious as one of his brightly-colored hoodies. "What about Scott?"

Stiles' mouth flattened into a line and he shrugged. "He's been kind of busy lately. We all have been. Senior year. And before you ask, Lydia is not doing well. Actually when we get done this, maybe we should go see that other alpha you know and see if he knows any way to help her. She's just getting flashes of deaths. Our deaths. Not premonitions, because they're different all the time. It's like she's getting warnings of ten different futures at once. She even warned me I was going to slip and fall in the shower and break my neck once."

"You sure that wasn't a prediction? You are kind of clumsy," Derek said.

"Helpful," Stiles muttered.

"No, I mean, of course we can ask him about Lydia. Maybe he even knows a banshee we can talk to about her powers. It would be nice for her if there was some way to turn her powers down or, you know, temporarily, off."

"I tried to get her to meditate, but that girl is high strung. Meditation _does not_ come naturally to her."

"You know, you can talk to me, if you want. I won't be a dick about it," Derek said.

"Yeah. No. I'm good. I mean, I'm okay right now. Back home I wasn't doing so great. I just…I guess I just felt it all closing in again. Another threat. Another problem. I just had to wait for it to come for me. I'm not so good with sitting around and waiting for the bad guys to show their hand."

"So you decided to come find me and help me fight off an assassin, because that sounds so relaxing and awesome?" Derek asked doubtfully.

"I know there's a problem. I know who's causing the problem. I can find ways to solve the problem. That's very different than what's going on in Beacon Hills right now."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's going on there?"

"No, let's deal with one problem at a time."

They got a crappy car that seemed reliable enough to get them to Vegas and wherever else they had to go. When they were driving, Stiles behind the wheel, he abruptly turned to Derek. "So do you think wolves can be gay?"

Derek glanced at him. "Haven't studies proven that almost all animals can be gay?"

"Really?"

"I thought you knew everything about everything."

"Yeah. I guess I never thought you would know that."

"Wait a minute, what the hell are we talking about right now?"

"I don't know. Can werewolves be gay?"

"Of course," he said. "Wasn't one of those creepy alpha twins gay?"

"Yeah. Well, what about bisexual?"

"Of course werewolves can be bisexual. What do you think we are? We're human, too. It's not like we're entirely different species or something," he said.

"Would you ever…"

"What?"

"Go out with a guy. I mean, obviously you're not gay, but maybe you're not completely straight, either," he said.

"Are you trying to set me up with someone?"

"No! It's just completely idle curiosity," Stiles said.

"I don't know. I have trouble trusting people. The fact that half of my girlfriends have turned out to be serial killers doesn't help," Derek said.

"I shouldn't have joked about that," Stiles said.

"Anyway…I guess what I'm saying is that…you know…if there was someone I could trust and I liked them and they were not trying to use me to murder anyone…I guess it wouldn't matter if they were a guy or a girl. I think I'm more drawn to women, but like, that doesn't mean I would never consider other possibilities."

"What about Braeden? Aren't you two together?"

"If I knew where she was right now…if I didn't just suspect she ran off somewhere to protect herself…but then I guess we can't be all that close, if I don't trust that that is what she's doing. I mean, it was pretty new. And I don't know what I meant to her. Maybe I was just a hook up. I'm not too worried, either way. I like her, and she helped me deal with the fact that I had no powers at the time. If that's all it ever is, that's okay," Derek said.

Stiles shot him a look. "Sounds like friends with benefits."

"Yeah. Well, what about you? I mean, would you ever, with a guy?"

"Yeah sure. I mean, I was trying to get Danny to fool around for years. I didn't have a crush on him, but he was hot," Stiles said. "I don't know if I'm bisexual or just curious. Or just very interested in having sex in general."

"Where is that guy?"

"He moved back with his mom. She lives in LA," Stiles said.

Derek tried to get his mind back on the task at hand, but he kept on kind of picturing Stiles and Danny doing…things. A few years ago he would have cuffed Stiles in the head for making him think like that, but frankly it was dangerous while they were driving.

"Why were you asking me all that, anyway?" Derek asked.

"Oh, I was just wondering if we could use your skills as a seducer equally on men and women, or if you'd only do it with women," Stiles said.

"It?" Derek asked indignantly, reconsidering smacking him.

"Flirting! Geez, I'm not trying to pimp you out, man."

"See that it stays that way," he said.

"But see, you got mad at me when I made you take your shirt off in front of Danny, but you didn't mind flirting with the desk clerk at the police station," Stiles said.

"Yeah, and if you'd told me he was gay and asked me to flirt with him, maybe I would have been okay with it. You paraded my half-naked body around for a high school kid. That's kind of different than me making the choice to flirt with someone fully clothed. And it's a little gross," Derek said.

"Okay, you've got a point, I guess," Stiles conceded. "But you have the body, man. You could make bank as a stripper."

"So who do you want me to flirt with?" Derek asked, trying to ignore the stripper comment.

"No one, yet, but it's always good to have something like that in your back pocket just in case," Stiles said.

"Why wouldn't _you_ just flirt with whoever it is? You're not a geeky kid anymore, Stiles. You look manly. Good. You carry yourself differently. A lot of people would rather be with a guy like you than a guy like me," Derek said.

Stiles shook his head. "You really don't know _how_ good looking you are, do you?"

"No, I pretty much do. But you haven't figured out that you're really good looking, too. It doesn't surprise me because you only got really good looking in the last year. You grew into your looks, I guess. I mean, we're different. You probably couldn't be a stripper or anything. But you're striking looking, and you've got charisma and…that sharpness…that look of intelligence in your eyes. And you're dynamic and can make conversation with anyone about anything."

"Derek, are you feeling alright? Because I would have thought you'd have to be near death to tell me something like that," Stiles said.

"I know we tease each other. It used to be kind of borderline cruel banter. But it's just teasing now. I don't…dislike you. I mean, you must like me, too. You came all this way to help me," he said.

"Of course I like you. I've always _liked_ you. I just was annoyed with you because you always kept secrets _for no reason_ and did all these questionable things and just said 'deal with it' instead of telling us why and it made things so much more difficult. I could have helped if you'd only told me the whole story. And you never believed me that I could do things or that I was as useful as Scott," Stiles said.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that you were…"

"What?"

"You," he said.

"What? Are trying to say that like it's a compliment?"

"Well, you're not exactly like other people. But other people suck, so yeah, that's definitely a compliment."

"I think we're spending too much time together, Derek," Stiles said.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you're starting to make sense to me."


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was trying to direct Derek through the chaotic rush hour Las Vegas traffic towards Davis Peterson's house, when Derek suddenly signaled and pulled over on the side of the road.

"What, are you mad at me again or something? Google maps can only do so much Derek. You've got to change the lanes yourself and I can't help but comment here and there," Stiles said.

"No, your directions are fine. A little bitchy, but I can live with that. I turned Erica, after all. I'm just not sure we're doing the right thing. I mean, going to this guy's house? Won't that immediately put him on the offensive? What if we go to his office instead," Derek suggested.

"And what, tell his secretary our appointment is in regards to the werewolf assassin conspiracy theory we're not entirely sure we're not just making up?"

"We say we know Malia. Maybe he'll want to use her to get to the Desert Wolf."

"Well, actually that's not bad," Stiles said. "It would probably get us through the door. But we can't actually produce Malia, so it would just piss him off in the end."

"And maybe the guy's got some scruples. I mean, otherwise why wouldn't he have tried that before? Hopefully the CIA has more resources than Peter, and I refuse to believe it's just a coincidence that Malia ended up placed with a family in Beacon Hills," Derek said.

"Please God tell me the CIA has more resources than Peter," Stiles muttered. He slapped the dashboard thoughtfully for a few moments and then turned to Derek. "Well, I gotta admit, a lot of my strategy depended on you threatening to rip out throats, which will be less effective if there's an office full of CIA agents and security nearby."

"Were you thinking of sharing that strategy with me or what?"

"I thought you could just stand there and look threatening while I talked," Stiles said.

"You do realize that I'm the adult here, right? Maybe _I_ should do the talking."

"I thought you said I looked all manly now. Besides, what the hell is scarier than a teenage boy in control of a 200 pound werewolf?"

"I don't weigh 200 pounds!"

Stiles ignored him, and then shrugged. "Well, should we do it or not?"

Derek looked towards the busy road, and Stiles tried to imagine his thought process. As ever, the things that went through his furry head were a total mystery to Stiles. Who knew if the man even wanted to go back to Beacon Hills and his old life? Finally, Derek said, "I say we do your plan, whatever it is."

"Cool."

"You know a lot of law enforcement types live in gated communities. What if we can't even get it?" Derek asked.

"Have you always been this much of a nervous Nelly? Actually, maybe negative Nancy is better. And you've definitely always been negative, so that answers that question."

"When enough bad things happen to you, you start to expect them," Derek said. Stiles tried to imagine losing the amount of people that Derek had lost, and he couldn't do it. He wondered if he should make some kind of awkward attempts sympathy, but Derek cleared his throat and pulled into traffic, and then Stiles too preoccupied with acting like Derek's personal GPS to say anything.

"Look at that. No gate," Stiles said.

"We getting close?"

"One street over. Just take the next left," he said.

Derek pulled up in front of the street and Stiles looked at the house. It was a new build, and the neighbourhood was full of houses that looked exactly like it, all with pathetically small trees and browning yards.

Stiles looked at the house for a moment, and then got out of the car decisively. He walked up to the door, and then waited until Derek was standing beside him to knock. A few moments later a teenaged-girl opened the door.

"Hi. We're here to see Davis Peterson. Is he home?" Stiles asked.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You better call him," Stiles said.

She shrugged and flounced off, looking more carefree than anyone had a right to. Stiles couldn't remember carefree. He could barely remember boredom. Who would have thought that he'd miss boredom?

"Kids," he muttered.

Derek raised an eyebrow, but didn't state the obvious—that though Stiles might be technically an adult, at eighteen, that girl was probably less than a year younger than him. Of course, if anyone understood the concept of being old before one's time, it was Derek.

"I don't know what you told my daughter, but I'm not in the market for whatever you're selling," said a middle-aged man who was walking down the stairs.

Stiles examined the man. Although he was preppy enough to look like an older, less handsome version of Jackson, there was something dangerous about him. Stiles kind of wanted to turn around and leave. This CIA agent who was probably more effective than the one in Stiles' imagination forced him to re-think his strategy.

"Derek, wolf out. Not full wolf. Just enough," Stiles said.

Davis held up his hand. "That won't be necessary. I didn't realize—Cindy, we're out of milk. Run and get some, will you?" he called to his daughter.

She came down the stairs, grinning. "Can I take the car?"

He tossed the keys to her and she ran to do her errand, apparently happy to get a chance to drive on her own. Stiles envied her, in a way. She had a normal life, free of all that horrors that made up his daily existence. But he couldn't deny that the things he did were important, and that made his life a whole lot more meaningful than hers probably was.

They moved to the living room. Stiles and Davis sat facing each other, and Derek stood behind Stiles, looking intimidating.

Davis gestured towards them both. "What is this? Who are you? Is he your bodyguard or something?"

"I'm not anyone important," Stiles said. "Actually, Derek is the important one, here. He's one of the last of the Hales. On this occasion, I'm going to be speaking for him."

"Oh?" Davis asked, looking amused. "Why is that?"

"Because the subject we're going to be discussing makes him pretty mad, and, you know the old saying. You wouldn't like him when he's angry," Stiles said.

Stiles resisted the urge to look at Derek. Stiles was trying to look confident, and turning back to make sure Derek wasn't going to cuff him on the back of the head wouldn't help him any with that. He wondered if Derek was going to slam his head into something later, though. Derek had better control that most werewolves, according to Peter, especially considering how much tragedy he'd endured, and it felt wrong to pretend otherwise.

Davis' smile faded away. "Wait, did you say Hale?"

"Yes. We've got a couple of questions for you, the first being, why was the Desert Wolf trying to ingratiate herself into the Hale pack? What was she after?"

"It was simple surveillance. Like any dangerous group, supernaturals have to be monitored," Davis said.

"Why CIA? Isn't this more like a Homeland Security problem? And why is there a CIA officer operating out of Vegas? Don't most of you work in Washington or overseas?"

"Homeland Security didn't exist before 9-11, back when the Desert Wolf was investigating the Hales. We were an experiment—too covert to concern ourselves with whether or not a supernatural is really a citizen and if policing supernatural citizens really falls under the CIA mandate. Besides, if you're from Beacon Hills you should know that when certain packs take over an area, they can be more destructive than terrorists."

"Werewolves pay their taxes just like everyone else," Stiles said. "We heard that the Desert Wolf was trying to get close with the Hale pack to assassinate Talia Hale."

"Assassinate her? Are you kidding? The Hale pack was strong, stable, and actually protected Beacon Hills, which has always been some kind of magnet for the weird and crazy things of this world. Yeah, we had an asset in the mix, but not to kill anyone," Davis said.

Stiles considered. He wasn't sure where to go with this anymore, because he believed Davis. Finally, he said, "What can you tell me about the Desert Wolf?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything. It's kind of nice to see you all grown up, Derek, but you don't scare me. It's hard to be frightened of someone who used to whine to his mommy about peanut butter sandwiches and bedtime stories in my surveillance tapes. I think it's time you boys leave," he said.

"Derek and Braeden found her, and she threatened to kill them to protect her cover. Now, I don't know much about this woman, but I don't think anything she's got going on is worth killing Derek over. So you're going to help me find her and convince her not to kill him, or you're going to give me some information on her so I can find her and take care of it myself. And if you have any pictures of Derek as a child, you should probably give me those, too," Stiles said.

"She actually threatened to kill you?" Davis asked, looking at Derek.

"She did," Derek said.

"Well, I'd like to think that's an idle threat, but it's hard to know. These days Braeden knows her better than I do. I passed the hunt off to her when it seemed like it was going to go on forever."

"Why were you looking for her? Why was she in prison in the first place?" Stiles asked.

"She was in prison for questionable things that went on during the Hale case; her romantic involvement with Peter Hale was the least of the distasteful things she did. And as for why we're looking for her, she has sensitive material that we don't want to get to the media."

"Evidence that the supernatural exists?" Stiles guessed.

"Not only that the supernatural exists, but that the government has known about it for years, and has devoted millions of dollars to investigating supernatural groups and individuals."

"You think people would really believe that?" Stiles asked.

"No, not really. I mean, it would definitely embarrass a lot of people if the tapes got out. Heads would roll. Figuratively, I mean. Lots of important people would lose their jobs, even if the public didn't buy her story."

"So why hasn't she come forward?" Derek asked.

"She left a message when she broke out of the prison," Davis said. "She promised that if she could live her life without having to be in prison or being under CIA control, she'd keep her mouth shut."

"So why not take her at her word? Why send Braeden after her?" Derek asked.

Davis raised his eyebrows. "She's not to be trusted. Besides, the CIA doesn't take kindly to people who threaten to expose our secrets. That's the direction I got from my superiors, anyway. If it had been up to me, I might have taken a different approach."

"So why are you telling us then?" Stiles asked.

"You obviously know most of this already…or enough to make guesses that are probably more dangerous than the truth. I must have told Braeden more than I thought over the years. Anyway, I don't think there's any danger of either of you giving away government secrets."

"So, DW is a covert agent. She doesn't want to be found. You want to find her. What are you going to do to her when you find her?" Stiles asked.

"Prison. Solitary. She won't be able to have any reporter visitors."

"She won't be able to get out again and take revenge on Derek or Braeden?"

Davis cocked his head. "Would you rather I said she'd be eliminated, kid? We'll keep her secure this time. Besides, I'm not sure she's really all that dangerous to your friend. She was probably playing up on your assumption that she was dangerous or an assassin. She might _try_ to kill you, but she probably wouldn't be able to do much against a werewolf, unless she's been training hard-core in _krav maga_ or something all these years."

"I don't want to agree to help you find this woman if finding her ends up putting us in danger," Stiles said.

"What makes you think you can find her, especially now that you seem to have misplaced Braeden?"

"Braeden looked for her for years and couldn't find her. Derek joined the search and they found her in a couple of months. I think that speaks for itself," Stiles said.

Davis said that he'd talk to his boss about everything and get back to them. They shared contact information, and then Stiles and Derek walked out of the house and then went and sat in the car.

"You _were_ integral to finding DW, weren't you?" Stiles asked.

"I find your acronym annoying."

"I find your face annoying."

Derek sighed, took a moment, and then continued. "Peter's information made a difference, but now she knows that we know what he knew. She will have changed her habits. We can't use that information against her again."

"Well then, we'll have to use you as bait," Stiles said.

"What?"

"She threatened to kill you. So we use you as bait. If she comes to kill you, better she do it with a CIA or FBI field office protecting you than back in Beacon Hills. If she _doesn't_ come to kill you, he was right and she doesn't want to, it was just a threat, and we wash our hands of the whole thing after a suitable interval," Stiles said.

"That could work. But how are you going to convince this guy that that's the best course of action for us to take?"

"Now that, I _don't_ know," Stiles said.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles wouldn't admit it, but it was actually the Desert Wolf herself who convinced Davis Peterson to go with the plan of using Derek for bait.

Stiles was undergoing security checks and helping with the search for the Desert Wolf at the office—which was indeed a FBI field office with the odd, secret branch of the CIA that Davis worked for attached to it in a sort of vague, unofficial way that Derek didn't really understand—when the Desert Wolf contacted Derek.

"It's because I had you pay for our room with your credit card," Stiles said later. "She found you that way, and now my plan is totally going to work."

Derek wasn't completely convinced that this had been Stiles' plan all along. He'd been sitting in the motel room he and Stiles had been sharing for the last couple of weeks, when suddenly the motel phone rang. Stiles hadn't been around to whisper-coach him in what to say since he'd gone into the FBI office that morning alone.

"I told you if I found you I'd kill you," the voice said.

Derek recognized her voice from the last time she'd called to threaten Braeden and demanded to be put on speakerphone so Derek could hear, too. She sounded kind of raspy.

"I'm not following you," he said. "What do you care if I go to Vegas with my buddy?"

"Cut the crap. I'm serious," she said.

"If you were serious I'd already be dead," Derek scoffed.

"You shouldn't be in Vegas. You know that's where Peterson is. If the government learns that you found me, they'll make your life miserable until you find me for them again. Please, just get off the grid for a while. Braeden might have gone to Peterson already. I don't want to have to hurt you—"

Remembering Stiles' plan, and trying to piss her off enough that she'd come looking for him, Derek interrupted. "Maybe _I'll_ go to Peterson. If he puts you away I'll be safe."

"Don't do that. You'll be dead before you make contact," she said.

 _Too late for that_ , Derek thought. "I'll do what I have to. Unless there's some good reason I shouldn't go to Peterson?"

"Whatever he tells you, it's a lie. He _does not_ have your best interest in mind. He's an enemy to all werewolves," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Trust me," she said.

"Why should I?"

"I had a child with your uncle. A child who probably inherited Peter's gifts. I believe in werewolf equality and Peterson doesn't. We shouldn't be fighting, Derek," she said.

She hung up, and Derek was left wondering exactly what werewolf equality meant to a person like the Desert Wolf. When he relayed the entire conversation as nearly word-for-word as he could to Stiles, Stiles threw the paper from his straw at him. "Derek! She wanted to make a deal to leave you alone! Why didn't you agree?"

"I don't know who to trust. Peterson seems on the level, but DW does have a certain claim to sympathy with werewolves," Derek said.

"Allison slept with Scott and still shot all kinds of holes in werewolves, to say nothing of—"

"—Can we not?" Derek asked.

Stiles looked chagrined at what he'd almost said, and Derek tried to banish the thought of Kate from his mind. "Okay, I guess just because you sleep with a werewolf doesn't make you sympathetic. Especially since maybe she was trying to do something sinister like end up with werewolf DNA to experiment with. Besides, we're not recruiting her to join a werewolf revolution, we're only trying to make her not kill us."

"Well, you. I don't think she wants to kill me, yet," Stiles said. "Or were you talking about Braeden?"

"Stiles, you should go back to school. It's your senior year. Even if you don't go to college, you've got to graduate," Derek said.

"I think I could ace the GED. You should see what I got on the SATs."

"Oh, come on. You don't want to graduate with Scott and all your friends? Get in a big competition with Lydia to see who gets to be valedictorian? You don't have to worry about me, Stiles. I don't think she's going to kill me. You should let me and Peterson handle this," Derek said.

"Are you joking, Derek? The only thing you do consistently is _always_ trust the wrong person. I am not going to leave you here with two bad choices and nothing but your instincts to guide you," Stiles said.

"My instincts do suck," Derek agreed glumly. "I can't even pretend to be offended by that. Maybe I shouldn't even trust _you_."

"I promise you, Derek, you can trust me," Stiles said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Derek nodded. Although Stiles hadn't always operated with his best interests at heart, Derek knew that Stiles would do anything to help him now. "Well, let's compromise, then. We'll try to get this show on the road. Bring things to a head, if we can. She made it sound like she was watching me, but she didn't sound like she knew we'd been with Peterson."

"So she isn't in Vegas. Because you paid for the motel bill days ago, and we've been to Peterson's office nearly every day, so if she was watching, she would have known you'd already contacted him."

"So how can we alert her to the fact that we're with Peterson?"

Stiles drummed his fingers on the table absently. "Would it be too obvious to buy something with a credit card in a place near the office?"

"Wait, she called the motel. Maybe Peterson can trace the call."

"She's gotta have a burner phone," Stiles said.

"Yeah, but maybe he can find out where she called from, and we can have cops swarm the place or at least the area the call came from. Then she'd probably figure out we gave her up to Peterson," Derek said.

"Sounds good. You wanna call him?"

"You've been doing the talking so far," Derek said. "Go ahead."

Stiles made the call and Peterson went to work tracing the call. Stiles looked at Derek, his expression annoyed. "Why did you have to put that picture in my head of graduating with all of my friends?"

"Is there any work you can do from here?"

"I think I can work on my final projects in some of my classes. Most of the requirements are online so I can do some of it, anyway. Christmas holidays are starting in a few weeks, so that'll be less school I'm missing. And I think we can make it back before exams at the end of January. Hopefully next term I don't have a crisis that makes me leave school for weeks on end."

"I forgot about Christmas. Shit. I'm sorry. Your dad is never going to forgive me for making you miss Christmas," Derek said.

Stiles shrugged. "Don't worry about Christmas. Thanksgiving is his favourite holiday, anyway."

"And you've already missed that. Shit, your dad is going to murder me. Why the hell am I worried about some CIA people when your dad is seriously going to kill me?"

Stiles shrugged and got out his iPad to start working on his final projects, and Derek worried about Sheriff Stilinski. Finally, he interrupted Stiles' research. "Will you please call your dad?" Derek said.

Stiles shook his head about eight times. "I can't, Derek. The second I hear his voice I'll tell him everything and agree to come home. It's better to just show up when all of this is over."

"You're wrong," Derek said.

Stiles went back to his work, and Derek left the room to think about things outside. He wondered about using the burner phone to call the Sheriff himself, but he knew the man could trace the call. And he was a cop, so he _would_ trace the call.

He knew he shouldn't make a call in Vegas, but he ached when he thought about how Stiles' dad must be feeling. And if he felt that bad about it, how must Stiles feel?

When Derek went back to the motel room, Stiles looked up from his project. "Peterson called. Apparently DW is in New Orleans. They've already sent local PD to the vicinity, but I guided him towards the idea of bringing you there and using you as bait."

"So we're going to New Orleans?"

"Looks like," Stiles said.

Derek looked at Stiles closely. "How did you _guide him_ to the idea? How did you convince him to listen to you at all? You are so damned manipulative."

"But not in a mean way," Stiles said defensively.

"You've got to watch that. I mean, you get everyone around you to do what you say all the time. If you're this good at controlling everything when you're eighteen, how hard will you be to resist when you're thirty? People like you end up…bad, you know? It's one thing to think you're right all the time, but when you can convince everyone else that you're right, too…it's dangerous. Sometimes getting your way all the time is bad for you. You could turn out like Peter."

"I guess I can't surround myself with yes men. I'll have to keep you nearby," Stiles said.

"Have I been able to successfully say no to you once this trip?"

For a moment that question made Derek feel raw and exposed, like he'd said too much, but then Stiles spoke like it was nothing.

"No, but you've _tried_ to argue. Scott and Lydia don't even bother anymore."

"And your dad?"

"He's always arguing with me. Anyway, I don't think I'm in danger of having that much power over anyone anytime soon. It's not like I'm a millionaire megalomaniac or something," Stiles said.

"Not yet," Derek muttered darkly.

The next morning the boarded a plane to New Orleans. They paraded Derek around the area where the call had been made from, and then they booked him and Stiles into a motel and appeared to withdraw.

"It's a kind of an obvious trap," Stiles said.

"But it's a good test, too. If she's really as effective as Braeden thought she was, she could still kill me here."

"You never told me Braeden said that!"

"Don't worry, I won't let her hurt you," Derek said.

"I wasn't worried about myself, dumbass," Stiles said.

Derek glanced at him, wondering why Stiles was emitting a vulnerable, defensive scent. "Well, I'm not worried about her hurting me. I've got you to protect me," he said.

Stiles looked at him seriously for a moment, and then laughed. "Nice save, Hale. Seriously."

"How long do we wait for her to try something?"

"A few days," Stiles said.

"Before we get on the plane, you're calling your father. And you're going to stress to him that none of this was my idea," Derek said.

"I still won't be able to stop myself from giving us away. And I didn't put him through all this just to leave you before I know you're safe," Stiles said.

"I'll be with you the whole time. I'll hold your damned hand if you want me to—or you can talk to him on speaker and I'll slap you every time I think you're going to tell him all your secrets. It's perfect, because we can buy a burner, make the call, and leave the phone in the airport so he won't know where we are when we go back to Vegas. Come on, I know it's gotta be killing you, not knowing if your dad is okay."

"When you're right, you're right," Stiles said. "Let's do the speaker phone thing."

"Okay."

"Now all I want to do is call him right now. I guess he'd find me if I did that," Stiles said.

"Yeah. We have to wait. And maybe DW will try to kill me and Peterson will catch her and we can head home instead of just calling home."

"It will be so amazing to go home."

"Is that why you don't want to go to college? You don't want to leave home?"

"No. I just…I think people go to college to find themselves, and to train for the job they want to get. And to learn how to think and reason, right? Well, sorry, but I can think circles around most people with college degrees. And I know what I want to do. I want to be a deputy in the sheriff's department. They'll take anyone, you know? The life expectancy for a deputy in Beacon Hills is something like five weeks. They stopped requiring a college degree _years_ ago. And as for training…well, I know exactly how to protect the citizens of this town."

"But what about all the experiences you might have in college. Like living with obnoxious roommates, and falling in love with the wrong person, and getting drunk and stoned…"

"Where is this fantasy land and how do I apply?" Stiles asked sarcastically.

"Finding yourself is a real thing. And don't you think you deserve a break from all the chaos?"

Stiles didn't reply, but he looked down at the floor and Derek could scent a little sadness on him.

"It's your dad, right? You can protect him as a deputy," Derek said.

Stiles shrugged. "It might be part of it."

"I'll do it," Derek said.

Stiles looked at him oddly, confusion written all over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll sign up as a deputy and keep your father safe so you can go to college," he said.

Stile's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious," Derek said.

"Imagine the badge bunnies faces when they walk into the station and see both you and Parrish," Stiles said in wonder.

"Shut up," Derek said. "Besides, your father's pretty hot. I bet he could have the pick of the badge bunnies."

Stiles apparently chose to ignore this, and shook his head. "I can't let you do it," he said.

"Why the hell not?" Derek asked.

"You're going to suit up and serve and protect a town full of low-life scum who covered up the massacre of your family? It isn't fair to you," Stiles said.

"Even I'm not that melodramatic, Stiles. Peter killed everyone involved in that conspiracy. Just let me give you something back. You're always putting everyone else ahead of yourself. Please, let me help you carry some of that weight on your shoulders," Derek said.

"Oh, you mean this?" Stiles asked, gesticulating wildly toward his shoulders. "It's just the world. No big."

"Please," Derek said.

Stiles smiled uncertainly. "Thanks, man. I don't know what to say," he said.

"Say you're going to finish up those final projects," Derek said.

"Yes sir," Stiles said.

Derek shook his head at Stiles' cheesy salute, but he couldn't help but smile a little.


	6. Chapter 6

They were going to be whisked to the airport and taken back to Las Vegas in about half an hour, so Derek had asked Davis to give him and Stiles half an hour together without disturbing them.

They sat down on one of the beds, and put the burner phone in between them.

"Okay, give me your hand," Stiles said. "Just one. You'll need the other one open to smack me to keep me from revealing too much."

"We could change your ticket-"

Stiles shook his head. "Not the time, Derek." He held out his hand and Derek took it. He was distracted for a moment by how big and strong Stiles' hands were. He really had grown up.

Stiles punched in the number and after a few rings the Sheriff answered, "Stiles?"

Stiles' face fell at the urgency in his dad's voice—well, he couldn't have expected that his dad would be just fine with him taking off and not worried at all, could he?

"Yeah, it's me, dad. Hey," he said.

"Where the hell are you?" Stilinski asked.

Derek squeezed Stiles' hand. "Dad, I'm fine, and I'm not quite ready to come home yet. I just called to tell you it might be a couple of more weeks. No matter what, I'll be back by the beginning of school in January. I've already done my SATs and my college applications, and I'm working on my final projects for the semester."

"Stiles, you need to listen to me, kid. You're going to get on a bus or a plane and you're coming home right now!"

"I changed my mind about going away to school. Derek said he would become a deputy and protect you so I wouldn't have to worry."

"Well, that would be great. However, he's going to be dead the next time I see him, so he won't be able to fill any vacancies."

"I'm serious, Dad. I know you're mad at both of us, but we have to be doing what we're doing. Derek's life was in danger. I couldn't just turn my back on him," Stiles said.

"Stiles, Derek's an adult and a _werewolf_ and you're just a human kid who needs to finish high school. And exactly how many times did Derek tell you he was fine and you could go home now?" Stilinski asked.

"Enough times that I'm sick of hearing about it," Stiles said. "Are you eating right? When's the last time you had a salad?"

"Stiles, I swear to god. You ran away from home. I'm not going to report to you on what I'm eating. I haven't had an appetite since you left. How bad of a father do you have to be to make a straight A student who you love more than your life run away from you?"

Derek wasn't very touchy-feely, but he got up and put his arm around Stiles at that point. The poor kid was in tears, and even Derek wasn't made of stone. "You raised me to help people. To protect people. Do you know how many times Derek has put his life on the line for me and Scott? The town in general? I can't just _stop_ caring. He deserves to have someone who will look out for him the way he looks out for everyone."

Stilinski sighed heavily. He must have heard the tears in Stiles' voice, and he definitely must have known his words to be true. "You know I'll always be proud of you, son. I shouldn't let...it's stupid, but people talk when a kid goes missing. Runs away. It's hard to be a public servant and...but I know you, Stiles, and I know you're doing what you feel is right. I just wish you could do that around here."

"I love you so much, dad. I can't have you mad at me," Stiles said.

"Are you in any danger where you are?"

"No. I swear. I'm not in danger, and we're working on getting the situation resolved," Stiles said.

"Is Derek there?" he said.

"Yes sir," Derek said.

"Are you really willing to work for the Sheriff's office?"

"Yes sir," he said.

"And did this idea come about when you realized Stiles was going to join the Sheriff's department right out of high school in some misguided attempt to keep me safe?"

"Yes sir," Derek said. "But I think I'll like it. I mean, I've helped out with investigations in the past, as you know, and I feel like the job might be a good fit for me."

"Well, thank you for convincing Stiles to put himself first for once," Stilinski said. "And Derek?"

"Yes sir."

"You keep my boy safe. I don't want him to endure even a scratch or a harsh word. You keep him safe for me," Stilinski said.

Derek smiled at the irony that the only reason Stiles was even with him was to protect him, and his dad insisted on Derek promising to keep him safe. For some reason Stilinski didn't seem to realize how incredibly effective his son was, yet. Well, it _had_ taken Derek years to realize it, himself.

"I swear, I'll keep him safe," Derek said.

"Dad, Derek and I have been watching each other's backs for years. We're a good team. We're pack. You don't have to tell either one of us to look out for each other," Stiles said.

"Just be careful, Stiles."

"I will be. You be careful, too. Is everything okay in Beacon Hills?"

"Well, it might be the lull before the storm, but no one has died lately. I love you, Stiles."

"I love you too, dad," Stiles said.

They hung up, and Derek wasn't surprised that Stiles didn't let go of Derek right away. He really let go with the crying, and Derek held him tight. Stiles clung to him even tighter, and Derek found himself nuzzling into the boy's neck, showing affection in a way that he hadn't for years—not since his mom had been alive. Stiles' crying slowed, then stopped, and Derek pulled back. He wiped a tear off of Stiles' face.

"You'll see him again, soon," Derek said.

"I hate disappointing him. And I hate when my being a shitty son makes him look bad at work."

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this," Derek said.

Stiles shook his head stoutly. "I meant what I said. The days of you having to deal with your problems on your own are done and gone. So get used to it."

Derek wondered if he ever would. He'd sort of gotten used to being able to call on Scott to help him, and the fact that Scott needed his help sometimes. But Stiles? Always being there, ready to help? It was a little bit unprecedented. Derek would have said thank you, but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him. He grabbed Stiles' elbow and squeezed briefly.

When they got back to Vegas, they got a hotel room that was nicer than where they'd stayed before and better for the authorities to try to protect Derek in. They were settling in and unpacking when Derek heard something.

He grabbed Stiles' arm and put a finger to his own lips. Stiles nodded and grabbed his phone, probably texting Davis while Derek went to the bathroom to investigate.

Derek opened the door, and a woman sprang onto him, making his breath whoosh out and knocking him over. He fell on the ground and she landed on him, so he rolled over so she was on the ground and he was on top of her and tried to restrain her.

She was slippery, though, and wiggled free enough to land a punch to Derek's kidney area. It hurt, and he involuntarily let his grip slacken. She took the opportunity to get even more free, and then tried to knee him in the groin. He dodged that, and pushed her against the floor, knocking her head, hard.

She looked dazed for a minute, and then suddenly Derek was on the floor and she was on top of him. She punched him in the face twice, and then was knocked off of him and landed on the floor, out cold.

Stiles was standing nearby holding the hotel phone.

"You hit her with that?"

"Yep," Stiles said.

"Thanks," Derek said.

He examined the woman. She was about Peter's age and fairly attractive. If he could say she looked like anyone he knew, he'd say she kind of looked like Scott's mom. Well, Scott's mom was totally Peter's type, so it stood to reason. She had short, dark-brown hair and good features, and she looked fit for her age. And the fact that she could hold her own in a fight with Derek certainly argued that she was fit as well.

"Did you call—"

The knock on the door interrupted Derek's question. "There's our police protection. Only a few minutes too late," Stiles said.

"You and I are not exactly helpless," Derek said.

"As long as we work together," Stiles said.

"That's what I said," Derek said.

Stiles smiled a bit bashfully and went to answer the door. The Desert Wolf groaned, and Derek readied himself for another attack, but it never came.

Davis ran in with his weapon drawn, and Derek toed the woman at his feet. "This the woman you lost?" he asked.

"I can't believe you found her," Davis said.

"I can't believe you didn't," Stiles said.

Davis scowled and gestured to one of the police officers in the room. "Cuff her tight. Shackles too."

"What happens now?" Stiles said. "What are you going to do with her?"

They watched as the police officers cuffed and shackled the unconscious woman and then dragged and half-carried her out the door. Finally Davis answered Stiles' question.

"She goes back to prison. And you two can go back to your regular lives. What does that mean for the two of you? Are you still in college, Stiles?"

"Hell, I'm still in high school. Technically I'm a runaway. I have to head home and finish off senior year."

Davis didn't look nearly as surprised at this as Derek had thought he would. "I knew a kid about your age, or a little older, when I was a kid. He came back from Vietnam at nineteen, and he saw a lot of action. He somehow seemed older much older than he was. Thirty-year-olds called him sir. I knew things in Beacon Hills were bad, but I guess it took meeting you to realize how bad."

"It just so happens I'm friends with a bunch of werewolves, who happened to have been targets of violence. I guess it's like that old parable that a man who doesn't wear a gun won't have to use it. When you have power, other people with power challenge you for dominance. Or in my case, they challenge Scott and I help him out because he's my bro."

"You also have an irrepressible need to help people that means you'll step between someone who is being attacked and something ten times as powerful as you," Derek said. "Even if the person you're protecting is a werewolf."

Stiles shrugged. "It's just instinct."

"Idiotic instinct," Derek muttered.

Stiles either pretended not to hear this or chose to ignore it. Davis looked at Stiles. "Well, you'd better head back to high school, then," he said.

"Yes sir," Stiles said.

Derek closed and locked the door after all the police and Davis left. He looked over at Stiles. "So, I guess we're on the road again. Want to go now, or wait until morning?"

"I feel like we should hit the casinos or something. Who comes to Vegas and hangs out with a CIA agent and waits for someone to attack them? We're supposed to be coming on to cocktail waitresses and gambling and raising hell," Stiles said.

"Welcome to my life. Anyway, you're underage. There is a bit to do in Vegas if you're under 21, but not all that much. I don't think there's a lot you'd be interested in."

"I suppose. But you owe me a weekend of Vegas debauchery when I'm older," Stiles said.

"Deal," Derek said.

"You're still going to be my friend after I graduate, right? Even if I move away?"

"Of course," Derek said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You can't even keep track of your own sisters. Obviously it's up to me to keep in touch. But you'll text me back. We've established this. So we're good. Friends for life, right?"

"Have you always been this much like a ten year old girl?" Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head in mock sadness at Derek's cynicism. "Turn that frown upside down, Derek. Things are looking up."

Derek had his doubts.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Yeah, there's some wish fulfillment in this one. You'll see. Two things that are broken on the show right now totally get fixed.**

"Home sweet home, right?" Stiles said. He looked around Beacon Hills. It looked so _harmless_. Looking at Main Street, the place could be anywhere USA, but it just _had_ to be a beacon for the supernatural.

"So, do you think your dad will be at work?"

"Let's try home, first," Stiles said.

His house looked ragged. They didn't have much of a lawn because it was California and it was stupid to water in a nearly perpetual drought, but obviously his dad had not kept up on the general maintenance of the place while he'd been away. Stiles couldn't imagine the state of the kitchen sink or laundry room. Not that Stiles did all the chores himself-but he did help out more than occasionally, and the other times, he nagged his dad to keep things looking right.

Derek squeezed his forearm and asked, "You ready?"

Stiles didn't even want to analyze whether or not the zing in his stomach had more to do with loving the way Derek was suddenly so touchy-feely, or being terrified his dad was going to handcuff him to something for the rest of senior year. "Are you coming with me?"

"Should I? I mean, maybe we should give your dad some time to cool down," Derek said.

"Coward," Stiles muttered, but he nodded. It was probably the right thing to do. Besides, he and his dad were probably going to get sloppily emotional, and neither one of them would enjoy Derek looking awkwardly on at _that_ kind of party. "Okay then. Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Let me know how it goes. Text or call or whatever. Or come over when you think your dad won't freak out if you're out of his sight."

Stiles grimaced. "The Jeep was on her last legs when I left, and sitting around not being started won't have been good for her. I don't know if she'll even start."

"I can have it towed to a garage I know. Least I can do to pay you back," Derek said.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "I don't even know if that's worth it. Everything is going on it. It's probably more cost effective to just save for a new car. I love the Jeep, but maybe it's not worth saving."

"If you love it, it's worth saving. At least to me. My treat. When's the last time something turned out right for you?"

Stiles shrugged. "Well, I guess this last couple of weeks turned out better than expected. I thought I was going to be murdered by the CIA and have to drop out of high school, but I guess you and I make a pretty good team."

"Stick with me then, kid," Derek said. It should have made Stiles wince because it was corny, but somehow, coming from Derek in his quietly fond voice, it was the perfect thing to say and had Stiles tongue-tied and fighting a blush as he got out of the car.

His dad was already walking out the front door, and as they tearfully reunited, Derek drove away.

Scott was pissed off at him for leaving; never mind the fact that they'd been ignoring each other before Stiles left and that he'd only left town to help out someone they both cared about. Scott disapproved so he must be right. Stiles was getting so sick of Scott's self-righteous attitude. He wondered sometimes if you could lose true-Alpha status because it was turning you into an ass.

So his first day back at school, Stiles found himself standing around talking to some guy from the lacrosse team he'd never really talked to, much. It was kind of refreshing, only worrying about girlfriends and dances and math class for a few minutes. Stiles smiled as he read a text from Derek. They'd been texting back and forth all weekend since they came home. Apparently the wizard Derek employed to look after his cars had actually breathed life into Stiles' Jeep.

"That from Malia?" Jason asked.

"No. Malia is in parts unknown," Stiles said.

"Everyone thought you went to find her," Jason said.

"Not this time," Stiles said.

"What are you so happy about then?"

"My friend got my Jeep fixed."

"Must be a pretty good friend to try to fix that piece of shit," Jason said.

Stiles flipped him off and considered his words. Derek _was_ a good friend. He had become someone Stiles could depend on and who he cared for more than he liked to admit, even to himself. And Derek had to feel the same, though, because, hello, he had agreed to be a deputy for four years just so Stiles could have some lame-ass college experiences, and he had fixed Roscoe. He'd reached out to Stiles for help when he didn't trust anybody ever. Maybe he even felt a more intense interest than just a friendly one. Was that even possible? Considering the conversation they'd had about bisexual werewolves, maybe it was possible. Maybe Derek even felt more strongly than Stiles, who'd only just begun to realize that he might actually be thinking of taking his attraction to guys from a vague theoretical idea to some pretty specific fantasies with one guy in particular.

Considering all of this, Stiles texted, _Watch out, buddy. The next time I see you I might kiss you on the mouth._

Stiles laughed out loud at Derek's reply. _Hardly a threat. I kissed a darach. And Kate Argent._

"So this is how it's going to be now, is it?" Scott asked. Stiles hadn't noticed him walking up because he'd been text-flirting.

With Derek Hale.

Jesus.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're ignoring me."

"Don't be such a drama queen. I was just texting Derek. I didn't even see you walk up."

"He your best friend now?"

"Don't be an idiot. You're my best friend. Even if neither of us has been acting like it lately."

Scott seemed mollified by the fact that he wasn't being blamed for everything. "Where were you for all of that time?"

"Vegas mostly," Stiles said.

"Yeah? You do anything fun?"

"Yeah. Catching an assassin for the CIA counts as fun, right?" Stiles asked.

"I guess. For you. You're weird. What's Derek up to?"

"Fixed my Jeep."

"Awesome."

And then it seemed like they were back on track. Friendships should always been this uncomplicated.

"Did you just say you caught an assassin for the CIA?" Jason asked.

Stiles looked at Scott, who shrugged. He opened his mouth to reply when his phone rang. He saw it was Derek.

"Hey Der," he said.

"Hey Stiles. Want me to pick you up in your Jeep today? You can drop me off at my place after. Maybe get a pizza?"

"You are going to wait in the parking lot, right? You're not going to show up in the boy's locker room like a creep again, are you?"

"I'm remembering all of a sudden why I used to find you so annoying. I'm trying to be nice, here, Stiles. I'm delivering your Jeep to you that I fixed for free, remember?"

"You know I can't stop myself from being a smart ass, Derek. I have practice tonight, but you can pick me up at five if that works."

"Okay. Later," Derek said.

"Are you gay for Derek?" Scott said once Stiles had hung up.

Stiles thought about denying it, and then decided not to bother, "Pretty much," he said.

"Does he like you back?"

"Who knows? I always think he's about to kill me and then instead he saves my life in some thoughtlessly selfless way. He's pretty hard to read. I don't know. We're getting pizza."

"That's so weird. Although, he is your type. Like, you know, a broody psychotic Hale," Scott said.

"You forgot stupidly hot. By the way, broody? You been reading those word of the day calendars again?"

"I guess the SAT prep did something for me," Scott said, smiling with goofy pleasure. "You think your dad will believe you're gay this time?"

"I don't know. Maybe he'll buy bisexual, which is more accurate, anyway. It'd probably be better if he didn't believe me, considering I'm trying hit on an old dude. Do you even know how old Derek is?"

"I mean…not that old. He did date one of our teachers like, years ago, though, so he must be at least twenty-five."

"Maybe Jennifer Blake was just robbing the cradle. I mean, she was a sadistic revenge driven druid serial killer," Stiles said.

"Yeah, but she took her teaching job kind of seriously," Scott said. "She wouldn't have wanted to get fired for dating some young guy, right?"

"Is it weird that she's like the best English teacher I ever had? Yes, it's weird. She killed one of my best friends. That was a weird thing to say," Stiles said.

"Are you guys like into LARPing? You like act out an elaborate fantasy life or something? Cause I think Ms. Blake just moved away," Jason said.

Stiles nodded his head emphatically. "Yes, we're LARPers. And all the werewolves and monsters you see running around town are just people in costume."

Jason laughed. "Shit, everyone knows werewolves are real. Scott wolfs out like every other day."

"Wait, people in Beacon Hills know? This actually explains a lot. Did you know the CIA also knows about werewolves?" Stiles asked.

"If the government knows about this stuff, why don't they send the army into to Beacon Hills years ago?" Scott said.

"Cause they're dicks," Stiles said.

The bell rang and they had to go to class. After practice, Stiles showered quickly and ran out to the parking lot. Somehow Scott, Kira and Liam had beat him there and were shamelessly watching from a reasonable distance.

"Why is Scott standing over there giggling at me like a fourth grader? I haven't seen the guy in months. What the hell?"

"Ignore him. He's an idiot. We'll have to all get together and hang out like on the weekend or something," Stiles said.

"We could just invite them all to come with us," Derek said.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles said, trying not let his disappointment show on his face.

Derek went over to Scott and the others, who said that they were busy. They got in the Jeep and Stiles let out a long breath.

"Feel good to be back at the wheel?"

"Are you kidding? So good. I'm so glad you did this. _Thank_ you," Stiles said. He looked over at Derek and maybe held his gaze a couple of moments too long because Derek frowned and looked away.

"Thank me a year from now if it all holds up. My guy says it will and from what I can gather from the bill it's almost entirely made of shiny new parts now, but I guess the body could still rust to pieces," Derek said.

"You cannot undersell this, man. This is possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I really really appreciate it," Stiles said. "Thanks for not listening when I told you not to bother."

Derek shrugged. "No problem. You want to start the engine?"

Stiles sighed with contentment when the engine turned over immediately. "Oh that's so nice," he breathed.

"Well, take me home, then. Unless the two of you want to be alone," Derek said.

"I love Roscoe. You know this. And I would appreciate it if you would respect our love," Stiles said.

"I do," Derek said with surprising seriousness.

"Yeah, I guess you do," Stiles said.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I started writing this before season 5 (although it is a little influenced by season 5 previews), so it is not canon compliant at all for season 5. And I think some of the parts with the Desert Wolf and Braeden are not even season 4 compliant. I am also not sure when Derek's dad really died, which I think I mentioned at one point. So like, sorry about that, I guess. Those parts are AU, LOL.**

Pizza with Derek felt a little weird, mostly because Stiles had stupidly confessed out loud to being kind of into Derek so he felt like his friends were going to be gossiping about it and thinking it was a date, which it wasn't. But Scott had pretty much already known how he felt, somehow. He must have said something that made that fact obvious that Scott overheard when he was talking to Derek on the phone, or maybe he'd seen it on Stiles' face.

Or god forbid Scott had _smelled_ something. Ew.

When Scott was paying attention, it was hard to get anything by him. He just tended to not pay much attention to Stiles, which was probably just a case of familiarity breeding contempt or inattention or whatever.

Either way, Derek and Stiles had been eating meals together and living in the same motel room for more than a month, so getting pizza and watching TV should have felt pretty comfortable, but because of Stiles' stupid crush and his inability to hide it, he felt way more awkward than usual.

"You okay?" Derek asked before Stiles left.

"Yeah, hey, I know I said we should get together with the others this weekend, but how far away is this alpha? I feel like it wouldn't be fair to get together with Lydia still at Eichen House."

"Lydia. Right. That alpha is up in Bend, Oregon. It's like eight hours away by car. Your dad wouldn't let you go."

"I guess I can't just pretend to be at a sleepover. What about a flight? Would your guy do a video conference or just talk to us on the phone?"

"When I say old, I mean, really, really old. Like he remembers the civil war old. He wouldn't do a video conference, and there are…protocols for asking for a favor from another wolf pack so the phone wouldn't work. We could probably get a flight," Derek said. "But we'd have to stay overnight to get a return flight the next day, so your dad would probably freak."

"I don't know. He's sort of started to realize I'm pretty much an adult now, whatever it says on my birth certificate. If I tell him I have to do it to save Lydia, he'll probably be fine with it. Maybe he'll come with us," Stiles said.

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can do this on my own, Stiles. Actually it might be better if I do. They don't take too well to outsiders. You finish up your school week, and maybe I'll find a solution to Lydia's problem. I mean, maybe we'll have to go someplace else to find a specialist, or maybe he doesn't know anyway to help her. So you just let me handle it for now, okay?"

"We can trust this guy, though, right? He won't send someone to kidnap Lydia and keep her as his pet or anything, will he?"

"He's not like that. And if it makes you feel any better, I won't say she's in Beacon Hills. I just got back to town so I can say she's someone I met on the road."

Stiles looked at Derek. He nodded. "I trust your judgment, Der, whatever you think is best," Stiles said.

"Well, my instinct is to trust the guy, but it's not really my secret so I'll error on the side of caution. I'll let you know what's happening. And maybe you should write down what's wrong with Lydia so I'll know what to ask."

"I'd feel better if I was coming with you," Stiles said.

"Well, this way we don't have to wait until the weekend," Derek said.

So Stiles took a few minutes and wrote down Lydia's symptoms, and then left, thanking Derek again for going to find the alpha and fixing his Jeep.

By Thursday Derek was back home, so Stiles got Chinese delivered and invited Derek to dinner with him and his dad.

When they were all sitting down, Stiles turned to Derek. "So, what did they say?"

"I talked to a Shaman who the Alpha introduced me to. She said that Lydia's power was all over the place and she needed to learn to focus her powers. You weren't far off with the idea that she should mediate. Apparently onyx and lapis lazuli are good at focusing. She's supposed to be able to learn to channel all of her visions through the stones, which will make them quieter, and then she can focus when she wants to on trying to decide which the strongest and most dire warning is."

"That's awesome. Thanks so much for doing that!" Stiles said. "I've been worried about Lydia."

Derek nodded. "Will they let you visit her in Eichen House?"

"She put me on the list, so unless something's going on with her, I should be able to get in. So, now that that's taken care of, what else is on the books?"

"Thought I might look into joining the Sheriff's office. If there's any openings," Derek said.

"Oh there's always openings," Stiles' dad said. "I like the idea of having a supernatural deputy. I mean, not like Parrish. I'm not sure what the deal with Parrish is and I'm really starting to think he's more trouble than he's worth. I know you'll be a real asset, Derek."

"Well, I'm glad we could get past our differences," Derek said.

"Derek, you know you're welcome here anytime, don't you? Stiles doesn't usually let me have greasy Chinese food, but a home-cooked meal has its own charm, doesn't it?"

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," Derek said.

After Derek had gone, Stiles asked his dad, "Why did you say all that about Derek always being welcome here?"

His dad shrugged. "I don't know. I think that kid is really lonely. I feel bad for him sometimes. I know he's good looking and he's got money and fancy cars, but when it comes down to it, I bet he'd rather have his family back than any of that stuff. I'm glad you started looking out for him, even if I wish you'd gone about it a different way."

Stiles thought about that. He'd always thought that Derek was trying to use Scott or corrupt him or turn people like Erica and Boyd into monsters for his own selfish reasons, but what if he'd been motivated, at least partially, by making himself a new family the whole time? He wasn't used to feeling sorry for Derek, although he'd always know the man deserved his sympathy, but that thought kind of made his heart ache. He knew what it was like to wonder what would happen if he lost everyone who cared about him; if he was suddenly alone. Derek already knew how it felt.

So Stiles decided that his new mission would be to try to make Derek a real part of Scott's pack—or maybe to help Derek fit in with his fellow deputies. He just wanted Derek to be part of a family again, and if all else failed, then he could just do what his dad said and try to make Derek a part of _his_ family.

The next day Stiles headed down town at lunch and found a craftsman who would make a necklace with semiprecious stones to Stiles' preference. He had it strung with lapis lazuli beads and then, in the centre there was a tear-drop-shaped onyx pendant. He arranged to pick it up the following morning and called ahead to make sure he could get into see Lydia Saturday afternoon.

That Saturday, he found himself walking up the creepy-ass steps to Eichen House, and asked to see Lydia Martin. He was taken to her room and locked in, which brought back all kinds of unpleasant memories.

"Stiles," Lydia said. She looked up. She wasn't wearing fancy clothes or makeup, and although she still looked beautiful, it was disconcerting to see her not as put together as usual. Also unexpected was the fact that rather than jumping up and hugging him, because she hadn't seen him in a couple of months, she spoke to him just as though they'd talked a day ago or even an hour ago. "I know I told you you were going to die, but now I know. I've seen it so many times. The Desert Wolf almost had you, but this time it's going to be a car accident."

"Lyd, I've got something to help you with your predictions. Will you try it out for me?" Stiles asked.

"Okay, yeah," she said. "Why not?"

Stiles took out the necklace and put it around Lydia's neck. It looked good on her, despite the fact that she was wearing a grey sweat suit. "Okay, now, try to focus all of our Banshee energy and stuff through the necklace."

She looked at him oddly for a moment, and then held the onyx and closed her eyes. She opened them. "What the hell, Stiles?"

"I have no magic whatsoever and I can make mountain ash into a powerful weapon against the supernatural. Objects in the world have special properties. Look at the nemeton. I promise you, this will work," Stiles said. He was remembering what Deacon had said about belief being essential to making this stuff work, so he wasn't going to let her have any doubts.

"If you say so," she said. The tartness in her voice reminded him of the old Lydia, and he actually allowed himself a moment's hope that this could work.

She closed her eyes and held the necklace. She opened her eyes after a few minutes, a look of surprise evident. "They seem stronger. I wish there was a way to make them weaker."

"I think there is, Lydia. Just, imagine the onyx is a box, and you're going to direct all of your visions inside of it. Asleep, awake, all your visions go inside. It's a closed circuit, and you only open that box when you want to. If you want to see any warnings, then you open the box."

"How do I open it?"

"It's up to you. Maybe you hold onto the onyx when you want access to the visions. Maybe you have to light a candle. My feeling is that rituals are like, like they started out as ways to train your brain to behave a certain way. So you decide what you want your brain to do and how you're going to cue it to do that thing."

Lydia tilted her head. "That makes a lot of sense," she said.

"I know it'll help," he said.

"Stay with me and help me learn," she said.

By the end of the visit, Stiles actually thought it was starting to work. By Monday morning, Lydia had been able to sleep through the night and could separate her visions from reality. By the end of the week, she was more proficient than she'd ever been with her powers, and was being discharged from Eichen house.

She came to school on Friday morning, looking fresh and beautiful in a frothy dress and heels that were impractically high. She threw herself into Stiles' arms the second she saw him and held him tight.

"Stiles, you are my hero. I kind of wish you'd saved me before I flunked bio, but at least I can still take it next semester. Lucky I'm so amazing that I practically graduated a year early. And I love my new necklace."

"It was sort of Derek. I mean, it was Derek and I together. And I was thinking, you know, he's helped us a lot over the years, and we're hardly even there for him when he has a problem. And I mean he doesn't have a problem right now, but I think he'd like to hang with us. I know that sounds weird, but I think it would be good for him. Like, we could do a welcome home party but for you and him. Because we missed both of you," Stiles said.

"I'm on it," Lydia said. "How does Saturday sound?"

"Lydia, you just got out of a mental hospital. And the party is supposed to be partially for you. You should let someone else plan it," Stiles said.

"Like who, Liam? Scott? _You_? I wouldn't even trust Kira. No, it has to be me. Don't worry. It won't be anything big. Just for us. You know."

"Yeah, I know," Stiles said. "Thanks."

"Hey, you found a way to help me. You and Derek. And worrying about something normal like planning a party is good for me."


End file.
